


The Horizon Beckoning

by sexystylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dominant Harry, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Innocent Louis, Jealous Harry, Light Angst, M/M, Married Harry, Married Louis, Mild Sexual Content, Pining, Protective Harry, Shy Louis, Smut, Teacher Louis, Top Harry, True Love, police offcer harry, spouses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 04:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexystylinson/pseuds/sexystylinson
Summary: written by ss98“I’d-”“Don’t say you’d take a bullet for me.” Louis interrupts him before he can finish. “Just sayyou love me.”Harry bothers with a sigh but it is far from agitated. “I love you.”all credit for this fanfic goes to ss98 as she is the original writer . yes im allowed to post





	The Horizon Beckoning

Thirty years ago the government of the New World decided they had needed to sink their claws  
into the personal lives of their citizens. Each individual would be matched to another of similar  
status according to a criteria outlined by the leading cabinet. The goal was to form couples that  
would contribute notably to the growing economy and state of society, which has worked  
phenomenally to date as people’s preferences and sexuality were ideally taken into account.  
There came word of rebellion over the three decades this scheme has been in effect, rumour of  
destroying a heinous project of the parliament that mechanically handled what should not be  
treated as an algorithm.  
\  
Louis was present at a livid protest against the audacity of the government, four years ago and  
youthfully ignorant of many things that were slowly moving in on him. He’d been roped into it by  
Niall, his best friend who made an irrefutable case one Friday night and posed a bribe of free pizza  
for a week. Louis went along if only to make sure his friend did not get too crazy with the  
proceedings, and in the commotion of shouting people, slanted posters and tossing of paint cans,  
ended up swathed in nearly all the colours under the sun. He had to wipe the slippery substance  
away from his eyes and nose to breathe, allowing the smeared handprints to dry on his shirt and  
legs while Niall dragged him toward the boundary of the crowd.

To interrupt them, the police force had arrived barring shields and batons as excessive violence  
would end in their detriment. It’s why Louis never really saw the harm in what the government  
was trying to do, because they fulfilled every other aspect of nurturing a district healthily without  
disadvantaging a singular group of people. He told Niall it was time to leave at the sight of pitch  
black uniforms, varying quantities of star pins on the officer’s lapels to signify their ranking, and  
towed his companion almost entirely away from the rioting crowd.

Harry was on duty that day and being his patriotic self saw the escaping pair as nothing but guilty  
troublemakers from afar. He, at the time, had been told that he had more love for his district and  
job than anyone in his life that sent him Christmas cards or bothered to visit him. They told him he  
expressed no emotion unless it was rage or discomfort and each time, Harry didn’t care enough to  
take heed of their comments.

He’d caught the smaller one, who had screamed at being captured and pushed his blond friend  
away to escape. Niall is not the kind of friend to abandon someone he’s known since they were in  
diapers but he also has enough rationale to know that he can bail Louis out of jail rather than be in  
the cell with him. Louis was useless in resisting the mountain of a man that tossed him over his  
shoulder and shrieked at the way he was callously jostled on the trip to a glossy SUV.

Talking did nothing to dissuade the robotic other who only let him back on his feet against the  
arresting vehicle. Louis huffed at the bruises around his wrists that were already forming and  
glared at the look of impatience on the officer’s face. Niall came to bail him out at the earliest  
possible hour and Louis all but screeched when his best friend flipped Commissioner Styles off  
upon their exit.

Needless to say, Louis dreaded the arrival of a wax sealed envelope every day and one day it fell  
on his doorstep when the horror just slipped to the back of his mind. The name of whom one is  
matched to is never mentioned on the letter of invitation and Louis made it down to the City  
Centre – an intimidating skyscraper in the eye of their civilisation – trembling all the way. He  
didn’t have to marry whoever it was, not immediately, and he lives by the philosophy that  
anything with a beating heart has the ability to earn love.

Louis had a choice upon entering the meeting room: turn back and run out or faint on the spot. He  
was so paralysed by shock and indecision that neither worked for him, and he merely stood frozen  
in the doorway staring at who had been selected for him. Way back then, word of government  
employees having certain privileges regarding the matching system had not surfaced and Louis  
was then none the wiser to the fact that Commissioner Harry Styles chose him.

* * * * *

“Did you get the chocolate chips?” Louis never greeted when he called Harry; his husband is a  
busy man and appreciated the lacking niceties.

It’s supposed to be just after Harry’s working hours and he has long since forsaken the act of  
reminding Louis that his memory is not deteriorating. “No.”

“Harry.” Louis hated to sound like a toddler on the phone but sometimes there was no other  
choice. “You want me to make cookies. How can I do that without chocolate chips?”  
“I haven’t left the precinct yet.”

“Oh, nevermind then.” Louis’ frustration deflated to embarrassment that heats his cheeks with a  
light pink blush. “So Niall called. He said that he and Liam are coming over tomorrow night.”  
His best friend got matched two years ago to one of the city’s most successful CEO’s; Liam and  
his brother run the government’s sole import and export industry. It leaves them with enough  
profit to be worthy of international wealth.

Harry is silent on the other side. While Louis makes an active effort to befriend the people he is  
introduced to, his spouse could not be bothered with anyone’s feelings towards him besides  
Louis’.

“Are you going to say something?” Louis is trying meekly to restrain his giggle.  
Initially during their relationship, Harry suffered the symptoms of longing for his single life  
especially when Louis induced nothing but anger in him for many weeks. That under-appreciation  
for the boy who tried to hear a phrase of affection from him expired after he witnessed the light  
that seemed to go out in Louis’ eyes. After eight months and three of them having been spent  
away from the boy, Harry arrested Niall without warning or permission so Louis showed up at the  
precinct, an embodied tempest in delicious wrapping.

“Which chocolate chips do you want?” Harry had made it across the street to the grocer and stood  
in front of the baking isle, ignoring Louis’ last statement.

Louis stopped feigning offence at Harry’s poignant manner; it was either necessary or just left  
unspoken. “The cookies are for you, H.”

Harry grabs the only package on the shelves that he is familiar with from the days of his  
childhood. It bothers him to think of what might happen when their production ceases. “I’ll be  
home in ten minutes.”

“Alright. I love you.”

If there is anything about Harry that’s changed since meeting Louis, it would certainly be his  
devotion to the boy. He may not initiate the proclamation or entirely indulge in oddly romantic  
moments between them, but those acts also failed to be his end-all; they were mainstream  
confessions that were not at all impressive to Harry. He spent a year of his life pleading with Louis  
to accept their match in the only way he could manage so the tedious commitment memoirs of  
those many years younger are unimportant.

“I’d-”

“Don’t say you’d take a bullet for me.” Louis interrupts him before he can finish. “Just say you  
love me.”

Harry bothers with a sigh but it is far from agitated. “I love you.”

* * * * *

Louis snatched the grocery bag out of Harry’s hand and pulled the man into a kiss he wasn’t  
prepared for; Harry is one of the finest public service officers in the city but he was entirely  
disarmed around his husband. He was caught off-guard by Louis grabbing his lapels and yanking  
him closer but that melted away swiftly when their lips connected under the dim foyer lights.  
The moments, in which Louis has Harry briefly dumbfounded, he always manages to take  
advantage of. Rather than letting him set another foot into their home, Louis hitches his thighs  
over Harry’s hips with practiced agility that no longer makes him blush. Harry never picks Louis  
up but when the boy is secured in his arms, he takes full advantage of it by kneading the thighs  
tightening around him and concentrating on their kiss with every ounce of his self-control.

“Welcome home.” Louis pecks Harry’s slightly pursed lips and grinned, mischief illuminating his  
features as he got back on his own two feet. He walked back into the house with Harry rushing to  
strip off his coat and boots. “How was work?”

Harry found Louis in their kitchen again, changing the song on the radio as he puts the oven on to  
preheat. “Fine.”

“The news said you guys found Davis Hamilton today.” Louis presses. The Hamilton boy went  
missing a year ago when he was taken from a playground in broad daylight and Harry’s precinct  
was just recently granted the case when the trail ran cold in another district.

“We did.” Harry rarely sat unless he was truly fatigued and the habit led to him hovering now as  
near to Louis as would not put him in the boy’s way but still allowed him close proximity. “He  
was in the sewer a few miles out from the city centre.”

“The sewer?” Louis’ expression was well and truly appalled. “What happened to the monster who  
took him?”

“He’s back in Dinasti District.” Harry wanted a shower so he came over to kiss Louis’ cheek in  
parting before leaving the room.

Thirty minutes spent by his lonesome almost seemed like too long. Louis had a job at a local  
private primary school and he was always home a few hours before Harry, which left that while  
for him to miss the other occupant of his home as a subconscious thought or active longing. He  
doesn’t like to imagine that the government had caught onto a substantial prospect with their  
studied matching. It cannot be that they knew which two people would form an emotional bond  
that seemed unseverable, but countless statistical analysis and deduction.

When Harry exits the bedroom and jogs down the stairs in his low-hanging sweatpants, Louis  
almost wished he wasn’t holding a Browning 9mm in his right hand that goes on the coffee table.  
Harry is never unarmed if he can help it.

“They’re still-” Louis has to stop himself warning Harry when the latter picks a cookie up from  
the cooling rack when it only left the oven sixty-eight seconds prior. He barely witnesses a wince  
as the man chews and swallows. “I married a terminator.”

Harry frowns at the reference but it is short-lived for Louis gives him more cookies on a saucer  
and sends him on his way to the living room. He’s too stubborn for that and waits patiently for  
Louis to fill a glass with full cream milk so that he might be accompanied. With their hours of  
work there is never a fair opportunity during the week to spend time together in conversation or  
otherwise, not that either of them complain because they’re both incredibly passionate about their  
careers.

“Cuddle me properly.” Louis complains after ten minutes of Harry’s haphazard efforts, draping  
himself over the man’s front and wiggling until heavy, bulging arms close around him. He sets his  
chin on Harry’s pectoral and grins at the man when he receives a firm squeeze around his hips.  
“Much better.”

Should there be just one gentleman left on the planet, it would be Harry. He never touches Louis  
below the waist unless the boy initiates something sensual, or like now when Louis repositions  
Harry’s grip to his derriere shamelessly.

Louis giggles when Harry kissed the tip of his nose. “I know you love my bum, you’re not fooling  
anyone.”

Harry may be uninterested in most things emotionally and he had the time of his life convincing  
Louis early in their relationship that what he felt was true, but most doubt was put to shame when  
he got his boy into bed. Louis would have let his imagination go wild for ages and never have  
predicted how unlike his outward personality Harry was during sex.

The first night they spent together was after weeks spent apart and Louis remembers experiencing  
the briefest sensations of fear when Harry cornered him after his shower. His husband was  
astonishingly mercurial to become as animalistic as he had, or half as predatorial. Louis was left  
breathless and with a muddled brain from which no comprehensible thought could come; he didn’t  
let Harry hold him so much as he’d pulled the man’s arms around him and burrowed into his new  
home.

When they spoke about it because Louis could not go longer than three days into the new aspect  
of their relationship without asking, he was crushed by the man’s confession. Harry used to have a  
frog plush toy for the first twelve years of his life that was an almost constant companion of his,  
until the night his home was invaded by men who had his father on their hit-list. Harry’s father  
was a commanding officer in the police force and the object of many strangers’ hatred, which  
triggered their gruesome rage that night.

His parents were mauled in their sleep; his mother was bludgeoned until the mattress and pillow  
squelched with expelled blood. Her husband was dragged down the corridor of their home past  
their children’s bedrooms and tied to a chair in their front-yard where they continued to make a  
sadistic show of tearing him apart. Harry was barely a teenager at the time and had only came to  
from his sleep when the neighbours’ screams got to him. He ran to his baby sister’s room and had  
to keep a hand over her mouth while an assailant passed the nursery, then ran out to a semblance  
of safety.

That night turned Harry into the epitome of cautious and protective, which was the reason behind  
his tendency to avoid physical intimacy. He felt that it was a deviation from his routine alertness  
and would result in nothing but tragedy if he should let his guard down. Louis felt ripped apart by  
the revelation and riddled by guilt, but he knew Harry well enough to avoid offering his  
sympathies. Pity is their antagonist.

Louis also relishes in the mild transformation from those days. Harry never harnessed the  
importance of a connection between their bodies, and still avoids spontaneous heated activities for  
the same reason, but he also struggled in resisting his ethereal husband. His prior insecurities have  
dimmed in favour of being a devote husband who was no less tempted by Louis’ weaponised  
curvaceous frame.

“Are you sleeping on me?” Harry asks when Louis’ breathing evens out, his cheek resting over  
the man’s heart with his eyes turning leaden.

Louis mumbles his consent but refutes Harry’s decision to stand up from the couch. “No, don’t  
move.”

“We can’t sleep in the lounge.” His husband carries Louis in a loose cradle up the stairs and into  
their bedroom. “You’ll be more comfortable here.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Louis shakes his head, now wide awake as he pulls Harry down against him.  
He wraps himself around Harry in a manner akin to a koala bear. “As long as you’re here with  
me.”

It’s not apparent whether or not Harry smiles at Louis’ words but it doesn’t matter to his spouse  
because an exterior expression of thrill means little with Harry. “Aren’t you lucky tonight then?”  
“Oh look who has jokes.” Louis laughs mutely, rolling onto his back so they’re both staring  
amusedly up at the ceiling. “It’s Friday night. Don’t you think we should do something?”  
“We have no obligation to do anything.” Harry absentmindedly massages Louis’ calves when  
they are draped across his lap; his husband has an inexplicable fondness for odd angles.  
Louis sighs in agreement, turning his head toward Harry. “We should go on a vacation.”  
The other male is puzzled by this request and looks at Louis as though the words he spoke make  
little sense to a human ear. “Why?”

“Because it’s a thing.” Louis shrugs. “A thing we’ve never done, mind you.”  
“We don’t need a vacation.”

Louis did anticipate that convincing Harry might be something of a challenge. “Do you really  
think that?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Louis smiled to himself when Harry’s hand rested on his belly, flattened and concealing the  
expanse of skin between his hipbones. “Come on, love. This is your chance to take me  
somewhere exotic.”

Harry doesn’t answer him immediately and Louis takes it as a win. Getting Harry to forsake any  
amount of quantifiable working hours is bound to be more of a difficulty than one session of  
disagreement. Louis is happy to have at least planted the seed of thought.

* * * * *

Liam was helping Louis in the kitchen rather than Niall because this way there might be less  
carnage before dinner. Harry just got home from an unprecedented visit to the precinct, to find  
their guests had arrived early and rather than having his shower, he lingered by the kitchen’s open  
doorway in an evident display of distrust. He knows both Niall and Liam to probably be their  
closest friends – or Louis’ rather – but there won’t be a day when he forfeits any measure of  
wariness around people anyone that isn’t Louis.

“A vacation sounds great.” Niall comments from where he’s flipping channels on their television,  
seeking out the right sports channel. “Where are you thinking of going?”  
Louis glances over at Harry’s deathly impassive expression but the strain is ensuing in the  
commissioner’s emerald gaze. It was the beginning of irritation. “Somewhere across the sea,  
hopefully.”

“The best vacations are in the tropics.” Liam contributes from where he’s getting the spaghetti  
bolognaise off the stove. “Try the Cumae Sapphire Islands.”

“I’ve heard about that place. It looks beautiful.” Louis opens the oven door and removes the tray  
of four chocolate bourbon cakes. He sets them on a cooling rack and puts the oven off, letting the  
excess heat escape so that it won’t cook the cakes when he puts them back.

Dinner is spent talking about more vacation destinations and the possibility of going sooner than  
later to one of the pleasant options. Louis feels Harry’s hand tighten on his thigh when Niall  
suggests they go ahead with a holiday all four of them can go on, to lessen the cost. However  
thankfully, Liam is the one to nip that in the bud as he is more intuitive towards Harry’s poorly  
restrained discomfort.

Harry finally gets to have his shower at thirty minutes past ten and joins Louis on their bed where  
the boy is browsing something on his laptop. “May I be honest?”

“Sure.” Louis is intrigued by the tone of Harry’s voice that bled with uncertainty and reservations.  
He looked at his husband with a quizzical brow that died shortly after observing the harsh frown  
that greeted him. “It’s about the vacation, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Harry sat up with ramrod straight back against the headboard. He is not accustomed to  
softening his way of speech and failed entirely when he tried now; he sounded strained and angry.  
“I did not think you were serious.”

“You didn’t?” Louis crossed his legs under the covers and closed his laptop. “Why?”  
Harry looked away for a moment because what he saw on Louis’ face is what he dreaded:  
resignation. Flickers of a pained look crossed his gaze, marring the deep green. “I do not want a  
holiday, for any reason, but it is what you want and-”

“So you’ll go because you have to?” Louis proffers, conflicted on which emotion he most has the  
right to express.

Harry did the impossible by looking mildly regretful. “Yes.”

For several minutes Louis had nothing to say so he drew his knees up to his chest and remained  
silent. Harry made no effort to touch him and that is to his credit for in the initial few seconds  
Louis had enough irritation running through him, searing his blood that he might have screamed.  
He loves Harry with everything he’s worth and he knows that leaving to a new place causes the  
man more discomfort than staying here causes Louis. When the immediate signs of frustration die  
a withering death, Louis feels mature enough to respond rationally.

“That’s alright.” He smiles comfortingly at Harry and knows it to be sincere. “Thank you for  
telling me and I’m sorry I didn’t….take you seriously. We won’t go anywhere.”

Harry goes against his own character protocol by extending his arm and pulling Louis close  
against his side, kissing the boy’s cheek without a request as his means of an apology. “I would  
take a bullet for you.”

Louis angled his head so he can press his lips against Harry’s with a little smile. “I love you too.”

* * * * *

Even for working in a primary school there is much for Louis to loathe as an active staff member.  
He carries his own lunch to keep from partaking in a daily expense with his co-workers and  
makes sure to take his break with Niall when most other teachers are in class. Mondays are the  
worst, however, because everyone seeks to escape their classrooms at every opportune moment.  
Louis hates walking into the staffroom and finding it in a hum because of one too many  
occupants.

“How are the kiddies?” Niall sits adjacent to him at a circular table by the window, as another  
gossiping pair was across from them.

“Great, as always.” Louis truthfully answers. He enjoys teaching his class even if their combined  
attention span is quaint and most of the time resulting in him answering questions that are nowhere  
near the curriculum standards. “How’s your lot?”

“Overcompensating in their knowledge of my patience.” Niall laughs in his trademark boisterous  
manner that earns them disapproving glares from everyone else present. He offers Louis half his  
breakfast bran muffin instead of flipping off those around them. “So, Harry seemed pretty pissy  
about the vacation idea.”

Louis could only offer a weak smile, nibbling on the gifted treat. “He doesn’t really like leaving  
the city and I should have thought of that before…you know.”

“I guess.” His best friend looks as conflicted on what to say next as Louis feels. “Shouldn’t he  
also consider the fact that you want to go somewhere?”

“Well, I mean-” Louis puts the fork back in his pasta salad and absentmindedly scratches his inner  
bicep. “It really bothers him to get out of the city and into new terrain, but I can do without a little  
vacation.”

“For now.” Niall contradicts him seriously, looking as sober as Louis’ ever seen him. “Talk to him  
again, yeah? It’s a great idea and I know you both could use some time away.”

The bell goes and signals the end of the day’s final recess. Louis packs up his unfinished lunch  
and bid Niall adieu with a brief hug; they’ll see each other again after school hours when they  
drive home together. He returns to his class with a new bit of hope tacked onto his previously  
forgotten venture, and while he keeps his students from running amok in his classroom he thinks  
of ways to broach an old topic with his husband.

The principal calls for a staff meeting at the end of the day and Louis finds Niall making a show of  
not wanting to be here. He takes his best friend’s arm and smothers the listless complaints that  
come from the latter. They endure a tedious agenda and endless reminders that their salaries are in  
fact in the upper percentile for the purpose of teaching, and not slacking off. Louis bites his lip to  
keep from laughing at a doodle on Niall’s notes of the vice principal in a summer frock.

Niall gets Louis home an hour and a half later than their usual time, but is silently glad that the  
delay is not their own doing. Louis walks into his home and finds Harry sitting on the couch,  
looking as tense as he’s ever been, and not a muscle in him ticks except to raise his gaze from the  
mess that is their coffee table.

“Hey.” Louis leaves his coat and shoes by the door before walking deeper into the house,  
dropping his lunchbag off in the kitchen as he goes. He makes his way over to his husband for a  
modest kiss in greeting. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes.” Harry doesn’t immediately wake from the sofa when Louis expects him to. “I have  
something to discuss with you.”

“Well, I know you don’t want a divorce.” Louis makes room for himself before climbing onto  
Harry’s lap; he’s always welcome on that particular throne. “What do you want to talk about?”  
Harry had a bottle of water that he capped and set aside in favour of setting his hands on Louis’  
hips. “The vacation.”

Louis deflates at the mention of it; any and all possible excitement has expired to a tandem of  
exhaustion. “We talked about it already, H.”

“I know.” Harry licks his lips, the way he does when he’s trying to say something that is not  
effortless to mention. “I want a vacation.”

“What?” Louis can’t help but appear disconcerted. He treasures his love for Harry and their  
marriage but he does not deem himself deserving of pointless pity.

Before he can argue however, Harry interrupts his internal struggle by handing Louis a sealed  
beige envelope. “We do not have to leave the district for a vacation.”

Harry was most in favour of his decision being final when he spoke, but something about this  
conflict nagged him until he gave it further thought. Louis deserved a compromise at the very  
least, so he came up with the solution of booking a cabin far away from any civilisation. It lay in  
the woods on the outskirts of their territory but still secured by the borders and surveillance. They  
would be getting away and blind to all responsibility for a week while still in relatively close  
proximity to their home – the drive is four hours without stopping.

Louis was thrilled and abandoned the gifted envelope for a moment so he can lunge at Harry. He  
embraces his husband with all the energy he can, tightening his arms and legs around Harry whilst  
trying to school his expression into something less expressive of his infinite joy. Harry witnesses  
this reaction from Louis and experiences the briefest, wilting regret at ever saying no to something  
that made the boy so happy. Louis didn’t care for Harry’s momentary lapse in alertness, and kisses  
the man’s lips in a trio of chaste pecks without warning.

“Thank you.” He murmurs against Harry’s lips, drumming his fingers on the man’s gently heaving  
torso. “This means a lot to me.”

Harry manoeuvred Louis into a more comfortable position across his lap, cradling the boy to his  
chest rather than relying on Louis’ willingness to embrace him. “You should be happy.”  
“I am.” Louis grins, an honest depiction of the emotion. “I have the best husband in the world so  
how can I not be?”

“I never want to deny you. Should I do so in the near or far future, know that I am not serious.”  
Harry presses his lips to Louis’ elegantly arched cheekbone; he uncovered a profound sense of  
anchored security and bliss in Louis’ signature vanilla and cinnamon scent.

“Hey.” Louis’ beam had softened to something more endearing and affectionate; he set his  
forehead against Harry’s and let their eyes meet in a way that ignited something fiery when they’d  
settled into the reassurance of having one another. “I’d take a bullet for you.”

“You’ll never have to.” Harry’ immediate horror was sabotaged by Louis connecting their lips. He  
would not be a man or Louis’ partner for life if he did not allow the distraction to dictate his  
actions temporarily. “I love you.”

* * * * *

“Remember the time you taught me how to shoot?” Louis sat on the hood of Harry’s discreet  
armoured SUV – a gift from the government for his astonishing service – and watched his  
husband in his target practice session.

Harry visited the shooting range as often as he could but he was particularly fond of training  
outdoors where Louis could also accompany him, playing the self-proclaimed role of cheerleader.  
They were on vacation at long last and Louis was too preoccupied with the thrill of being away  
that he decided to join Harry on this venture. His husband was a vision to witness when every  
handheld weapon he’s come to master is at his mercy, and Louis finds it thrilling to watch how  
concentrated he can become.

“You learnt well in a short space of time.” Harry commented when he backed away from the  
target and switched the mag on his Firestar.

Louis graciously winked at his husband, lying back on the windshield of their vehicle. “My  
training officer was especially sexy. I couldn’t disappoint him.”  
“You would have practiced until you were as perfect as you are now.” Harry deadpans, stealing  
some of Louis’ thunder.

“Sayin’ I’m perfect?” Louis grins at the man a few feet from him. He watches Harry’s unreadable  
gaze that’s hidden behind aviators turn in his direction, but Louis is not swift enough in stopping  
whatever monotonous response he’s bound to receive.

Harry has Louis struck dumb however with his reply. “I am.”


End file.
